Cinis in Cinerem
by NiennaTru
Summary: Post Not Fade Away. Death brings revelations. Revised with epilogue added.
1. Buffy

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the universe. I just have fun playing in it.

"Cinis in Cinerem"

The sun rises above the city, warming it after the chill of night. The torrential rains had ceased, revealing a flawless sky, and an awe-inspiring sunrise.

She sits unnoticing, however, amongst the ashes and carnage. There is nothing else, only the thought that echoes, and wails, and chokes out everything else.

_It's not fair..._

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be waiting for her.

"_I ain't gettin' any older."_

Hadn't he told her that? Hadn't he implied that when she was ready, he would be waiting? He was supposed to be there to love her, to be her friend, and support—a constant in her life.

Why had she taken so long? A full year she had savored his promise, and done nothing. She had told him she needed time to find herself, to become something other than The Slayer. Her freedom, at first intoxicating, now seems cheap.

_It's not fair..._

Could she not have found herself at his side? The thought of the opportunity now gone breaks her anew.

She begins to weep. Her fingers caress his ashes, all that remains of the life she threw away.

_It's not fair._


	2. Xander

Disclaimer: Still not mine, though I wish they were because then I'd live off the royalties.

Post-"Not Fade Away"

Chapter Two: Xander

He watches her grief. Her quiet weeping has given way to a long, keening wail that pierces the stillness of early morning.

He stands frozen, wanting to offer comfort, but uncertain in how to do so. His disapproval has been a constant over the years, and he knows she will sense it there still. He knows she will feel his anger because once again, she is broken because of _him_.

So he waits.

He has never understood why she clung so desperately to Angel. Giles had called it "rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way".

He laughs, jagged and harsh. What had followed had been anything but poetry.

The tragedies of the following years had tested his endurance, and strained his acceptance of her actions regarding him.

_Him._

Why did everything always seem to come back to Angel? It always had, and seemingly, always would.

He glimpses the sunrise, noticing it for the first time, and a sense of surrealism washes over him. The union of death and emerging day unsettles him.

He doesn't want to acknowledge this gift. His pride doesn't want to allow him to comprehend the magnitude of Angel's accomplishment.

No longer would there be demons to fight, or vampires to slay. Violent death—such a given for so many years—would no longer hold them in its iron grip. Somehow, Angel had accomplished the impossible, something an army of Slayers would never have dreamed to be possible.

They were free.

He gazes at the sky above him, and is struck by what he feels building inside of him.

His gaze drifts back to Buffy. He realizes now how to offer her comfort—the only kind he can give.

He whispers it to a changed world.

"Thank you".


	3. Faith

Disclaimer: Not mine. sigh

Author's Note: Many, many thanks to everyone who left a review. I'm so pleased, and grateful to you for taking the time to let me know what you thought.

A/N 2: When I began, I had only the idea of Buffy reacting to Angel's death in my head, but after I finished it, Xander walked in, and demanded he be heard as well. I hope to follow with Willow, and Giles, but my confidence is a little shaky after writing this chapter. Faith was extremely hard for me to write, and I'm not sure I got the characterization right, so we'll see.

Chapter Three: Faith

She leaves the alley, walking quickly, and with determination. She doesn't have a destination, only a desire to get away.

She understands B's grief, but is unnerved by it, too. Displays of emotion have always made her uncomfortable. She has never known how to react, and she despises that helplessness.

So she walks.

Life had always been unforgiving, and cruel, so she had treated it in kind. Not expecting much, and giving less—until he had come along. He had given so much of himself to save her—even crossing Buffy—and she understood how much it had cost him.

Glimpses of him rise up within her. The way his eyes reflected her own pain; how by simply taking her hand in his own he was able to quiet the storm within her; how he made her feel for the first time in her life as if she could finally rely on something. There was no question that he would stand by her side. He was Angel.

She had jumped at the chance to return the favor when Wesley had come for her last year. At last she could actually do something to prove she had changed, and to show Angel that she cared about someone—about him—and was willing to do whatever it took to save him.

There had been no time afterward. She had been pulled back to Sunnydale too quickly. She supposed it had been for the best—she was never one for speeches, or great declarations. That had always been B's forte.

She wishes now she had said something, anything to let him know what he had meant to her. To tell him that she did comprehend the enormity of the act of one person reaching out to save another.

She stops walking as regret threatens to overwhelm her. Tears fall unbidden down her cheeks. She reaches without thought to wipe them away, and then stops herself. To let her pride override her sorrow would feel like a betrayal of him.

Perhaps by allowing herself to mourn openly, she might express what she had never spoken aloud.

Her tears flow faster as she allows emotion to overtake her, and her control to crumble. She sits in grass laden with morning dew uncaring of the stares she is drawing from early-morning commuters.

She cries.

Her friend is gone.


	4. Willow

Disclaimer: All belongs to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, etc. I'm just borrowing them for a while. I'll give them back, I promise.

Chapter Four: Willow

The ground is cold beneath her.

She looks down, and is nauseated by what she sees. The battle had been undoubtedly brutal: blood has pooled together with the rain of the previous evening creating grisly rivers all around her. She watches as the revolting mixture runs the length of the alley before fading into L.A.'s labyrinthine sewer system.

She listens to the sounds of rushing water as all evidence of the horror around her washes away.

She is silent as she clutches Buffy to her, holding her as a mother would a child. She offers no words of comfort or condolence, however, for there is nothing to say.

Xander stands nearby gazing at the sunrise. Sorrow marks his features giving her pause. He turns his head and their eyes meet. She hears what he whispered to the dawn, and her eyes fill. She smiles and gathers Buffy closer in her arms.

She is surprised at the peace she feels. Surrounded by death and the ghastly remains of battle, and yet she feels only an all-encompassing stillness and tranquility.

They would perhaps never know fully what had taken place here, but the outcome is clear. The scales had been checked, and balance achieved; a sacrificial act for the triumph of all.

The sudden equilibrium gives her a heady feeling, and she indulges herself in the sensation. She hadn't realized the weight she carried. It is gone now, and the sense of freedom, the sense that for the first time in years she is master of her own life is liberating and terrifying all at once.

She supposes everyone keeps a list of people, or events in their lives they think of as life-changing, and she is no different.

A broken crayon in kindergarten; getting perfect scores on a test that most of the class had failed and thereafter being labeled asa _nerd_; Buffy introducing herself on her first day at Sunnydale High; seeing a vampire dusted for the first time; Xander making it known he had slept with Faith; Oz leaving her; meeting Tara and falling in love; Buffy jumping to her death; Tara collapsing to the floor in front of her; dead; embracing evil; watching Sunnydale falling into the earth...

The list seems to go on forever, but buried in the maelstrom is a memory of Angel.

She had gone to L.A. to tell him about Buffy's death. She still doesn't remember the two hour drive to L.A., only the turbulent emotions coursing through her, and how she agonized about how to tell him. She remembers the resentment and anger she had felt knowing she had to do this alone.

The Hyperion had been empty, however, when she arrived. She had been ashamed of the relief she experienced in that moment.

So she waited.

He had known. As soon as he had seen her face he had known. In the end, she didn't have to say anything at all.

She had stood mutely as he seemed to deflate, and sink slowly to the steps below him, Cordelia and Wesley sitting on either side of him lending him support.

She had haltingly told him what had taken place: Glory, Dawn, the portal, and finally, Buffy's death to close it. She had watched him while she spoke and had glimpsed pride and approval beneath the anguish.

She hadn't understood, or thought she'd misinterpreted the emotions in his eyes.

Now she knows.

He had understood that Buffy's death had been a precious gift borne out of her love for them all. He knew she had forfeited her own life for the greater good, and he loved her all the more because of her choice. He seemed to make a decision in that moment to respect and honor her.

She wants to share this with Buffy, but doesn't know how. She knows how empty and worthless words can be in moments like this, but feels she should share this memory of Angel with her.

She takes a breath, and steels herself, but it is Buffy who speaks first.

"Death was my gift," she whispers brokenly. "I guess it was his, too."

There is nothing more to say.

She nods wordlessly watching as Buffy stiffly pulls away from her and stands.

It is time to go home.


	5. Giles

Disclaimer: Not mine; never will be.

Author's Note: Well, this is it. The Final Chapter. g I'm sorry for the delay; real life has been so distracting lately, aaaaand…I had my first case of writer's block. Hee! I feel so authentic.

Author's Note 2: Thanks again to all who have left reviews. I can't tell you how happy it made me to hear you guys enjoyed this little fic.

Dedication: To my lovely mum, who encouraged me, bolstered my shaky confidence, and told me I was good. Thank you, Mama.

Chapter Five: Giles

He stands inert as silence falls.

The Oracle is quiet now, resting before him, seemingly nothing more than an ornate grave marker.

His mouth works and his hands clench as his mind grapples with what he has just been told.

He had been wrong. He had been so wrong.

He had waited behind in England, sending the others to Los Angeles after the local coven warned him of the dark power about to rise there.

"_The Wolf, the Ram, and the Heart will ascend. Darkness will overcome, and all will be lost. The end, at last, is here."_

The finality in the witches' voices had frightened him more than he cared to admit; his hands had shaken as he called the Slayers.

It had been a literal army that assembled to travel back to the States for what he assured them all could very possibly be the final apocalypse. Trying hard to ignore Xander's usual ill-timed humor following that remark, his eyes had traveled to Buffy standing nearby.

She had been grim and unspeaking in those moments, avoiding him. He thought she could perhaps see the unspoken accusation in his eyes. The rift, barely healed following the debacle with Spike, had reappeared upon hearing of Angel's decision to take over the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart.

Buffy had tried to reassure him time and again to trust Angel; she knew in her heart he would never join forces with them unless there was some greater purpose. He had sighed each time, and told her he hoped she was right—for all of their sakes.

He hadn't told her that Angel had contacted him some weeks before. He had been genuinely regretful of the situation regarding the girl, Fred, but knew he couldn't compromise.

There could be no contact, no help so long as Angel stayed with Wolfram and Hart. The firm held this dimension in their unrelenting and malevolent grip; they were the reason behind so much destruction and evil in the world. He could not weaken the burgeoning power of the new Slayers.

He would protect Buffy and the others no matter the cost. He willingly shouldered the burden and pain of knowing he was doing irreparable damage to his relationship with Buffy; he would carry this cross knowing he was in the right and hope she would someday see the wisdom of his choice—hoping that one day she would look at him once again with trust and love.

And in the end, he had been right. The coven's warning had been proof of that.

Willow's call had changed everything, shattering all he had believed to be true.

L.A. had been quiet when they arrived, she had told him, looking as normal as L.A. ever did. No impending disaster, no imminent apocalypse, only the sights and sounds of the city as a new day broke.

They had been uncertain and confused by this turn of events.

Buffy had led them to Wolfram and Hart, intent on finding answers with Angel, only to find the once gleaming tower a fiery ruin.

Next on their search had been the Hyperion; but it, too was an unpleasant discovery. The rich and warm lobby was dark, the dust covering everything speaking to the fact that the hotel had been vacant for some time.

A shout from one of the Slayers alerted them and they ran toward the alley behind the building. It had been a wrenching sight that greeted them.

Twisted visages of lifeless demons, great pools of blood, and horribly, in the midst of the carnage, the bodies of Gunn, and what was presumably Fred.

Buffy had met Willow's eyes at the discovery of Fred and Gunn knowing Angel would not have been far away. Shock, alarm, and growing terror had threatened to overwhelm them when it happened.

The alley was suddenly gone, and they instead found themselves standing in an expanse of endless white. As if on an invisible display, the events of the past year at Wolfram and Hart began to play—slowly at first, and gradually picking up speed until the images blurred together in a great kaleidoscope of color, sense and sound.

The experience had been amazing Willow had said. Not only were images being conveyed, but smells, sensations, sound—and emotion. It was as if they had all been given the opportunity to live the past year just as Wesley, Fred, Gunn, Spike, and Angel had done. Everything from Wesley's despair over Fred's death to Angel's ennui and disconnectedness upon taking control of the corporation were felt.

And then she had related the most devastating news: Angel had been able to cut off Wolfram and Hart from this dimension. It had been this action that resulted in his death and the deaths of his team.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the strange occurrence ended.

"_The Champion has broken the yoke the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart have held on this dimension for thousands of years. The vampire cursed with a soul is now free from his fealty. Eternal peace is rewarded to him. Go now from this place. No more will you be in bondage to death. A gift has been given to you. You are free."_

The disembodied voice was still resonating as they found themselves back in the alley.

Willow had trailed off lamely at this point, unwilling or unable to describe the rest. It hadn't mattered; he had been too shaken by the message to hear more.

Hanging up the phone, he had recoiled from the newfound information, deciding instead to contact the locate Oracle. Surely there had been some mistake. He viciously silenced the voice inside him that told him he would only hear what his heart already knew.

He had been wrong.

He shuffles along, away from the graveyard.

There would be no rectifying this. He had allowed his past prejudices and hurts to guide his actions; and he would now have to live with his choice.

He knows this, and numbly accepts.

He prays.

_Forgive me._


	6. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the universe. They belong to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc.

Chapter Six: Epilogue

She comes here every night as the sun sets to watch the sea. It's not just the hypnotic rhythm of the waves breaking against the cliffs upon which she stands drawing her here, nor is it the surprisingly intoxicating scent of sea itself. She comes here because here, in this foreign place, she can feel Angel.

It's strange, she thinks. There are no memories of him here—not for her, anyway. There are no tangible reminders of romantic evenings spent together walking along the beach or stealing kisses while on patrol. She had never even really thought about this land, excepting for the occasional mention by Angel of his human life here. But here, and only here, does she feel as if Angel is not completely gone.

She had been in England with Giles when she made the decision to come to Ireland. After the desperate rush to L.A. and the discovery of what Angel and his team had done, there had been nothing left to do but bury the dead, and go back.

Giles' look of devastation when he met them at the airport had broken her anew. Sobs, quieted in the alley behind the Hyperion, broke out once again. Giles had taken her in his arms and rocked her like a baby, right there in the middle of the airport. After the disaster with Spike the previous year, she hadn't thought things would ever be the same between them again. And though she had been right about that, they had come to terms with one another. He had tried to apologize to her for doubting Angel, and for other things as well, but she had told him that there was no need. She had done horrible things, too.

Giles insisted she stay with him after that, and she agreed. Dawn was already there waiting for her. Willow and Xander stayed at the Slayer facility, which had been untouched by the First's attack against the Watchers, and barely left her side for weeks.

Faith also stayed close by, surprising her. The dark-haired Slayer came by every day with coffee and snacks. They sat together in Giles' sunroom watching the rain—and occasionally the sun—as Faith talked. She told stories about her time in prison, and about her life in Boston, and sometimes, she'd talk about Angel. The times he had visited her in prison, her jaunt through his memories, conversations they'd shared...

On one occasion, she had been so caught up in relating a conversation to Buffy that she didn't notice she was crying until she felt Buffy brushing tears away and then gently putting her arms around her shoulders.

Willow eventually traveled to Eastern Europe to learn from an aged witch of whom her coven often spoke. There was no electricity or computer access there, so letters arrived every few weeks detailing what she was learning from the ancient woman and what her day-to-day life was like. The letters were full of vintage Willow ramblings, and made Buffy smile.

Xander stayed in England for most of the summer and then flew back to California. He missed home he said, and though there was no grave to visit, he wanted to be close to Anya. He called on the weekends to ask after her and Dawn, and told her of his successes in the small contracting business he had been able to build. There was no one new in his life, but he was happy—or at least getting there anyway.

Dawn stayed with her through the summer, but wanted to finish her education in Rome. She felt as if the ancient city was her home now, and she wanted to return. Giles was able to make arrangements for Dawn to attend a boarding school not far from where she had been attending school before. Dawn had squealed in delight over being "just like Harry Potter!" Giles had looked rather bewildered. Buffy just smiled.

Faith took up training the Slayers with ease and enthusiasm. She had told Buffy on one of their afternoons together that she felt like this was an opportunity to give back some of what Angel had taught her, as if this was a chance to pass on his legacy. The other Slayers knew to give Faith her space, and some of the younger girls were rather wary at first, but all grew to respect the escaped con who had taken down the infamous Angelus and befriended the legendary vampire with a soul.

Giles, being the only remaining Watcher, began recruiting others to the cause. It seemed that when the PTB had stepped in, the release of power to take down the army unleashed upon Angel and his team also took the majority of the vampire and demon population with it. Though Angel had been successful in cutting off the Senior Partners from this dimension, there still existed pockets of vamps and demons to take care of. Slayers were still being trained and they needed Watchers. The population of dark creatures was dwindling, however, and Giles sometimes wondered how long Slayers and Watchers would be needed.

The books had been a surprise. Two weeks after returning from L.A., a delivery man had showed up at the Slayer facility with a truckload of what turned out to be rare and impossible to find texts, scrolls, and prophecies; in short, the entire collection owned by Wolfram and Harm. A gift from the company's CEO.

Along with Wolfram and Hart's library was a note from Angel, and a receipt. The note explained that the collection now belonged to the Watcher's Council and the Slayers. Angel's usually beautiful script looked hastily written, making it almost illegible.

The receipt detailed a transfer of funds from Wolfram and Hart to a private account in Buffy's name. How he'd managed to do that she didn't know, but the amount in there meant that neither she, nor Dawn, nor any of the Slayers and Scooby gang needed to worry about money ever again.

Giles had stared at the receipt open-mouthed for almost a minute. He had looked at her then and smiled. But it was a sad smile, and spoke of his regret. He had put the receipt on his desk and walked from the room without speaking.

When summer came to a close, and Dawn moved away, she knew the time had come. She was ready, and told Giles of her intentions. It was something she needed to do to heal she had said. He had hugged her then and whispered that he wished he could have spared her this somehow. That had made her cry and hug him harder.

Faith traveled with her all the way to Galway and even stayed with her for the first few days in the cottage she had rented for this purpose. When it came time for Faith to leave, the other Slayer surprised her with a bundle of herbs, a lock of her own hair, and a list of instructions written in Willow's hand. It was a spell that would allow her to see all that Faith had seen during her trip through Angel's memories. Faith had hugged her quickly and turned away, but not before she had seen tears shining in the other girl's eyes.

It wasn't until she had been there for almost a week that she discovered the sea. Needing fresh air, she had walked out her front door, but instead of walking into town as she usually did, she instead walked in the opposite direction. It was then that she had seen it.

It was majestic and alive and wild and dangerous. She walked perilously close to the edge of the cliff and listened to its rhythm, inhaling deeply of its perfume. It was then that she felt him for the first time.

And so she returned every night. She had tried different times of the day, but it was only as the day was ending and the sun set the sea on fire that she felt him with her. It was as if he was standing here with her every night, telling her all that was in him just as she did years ago. It was comforting to her, but frightening as well. The pain seemed to ease as the days went by.

She has been here for almost six months now. She is a regular fixture walking through the streets during the day, making visits to the local shops, browsing the library, and sometimes, popping into the pub for a Guinness.

Her hair is no longer the golden blonde she strove so hard to perfect with coloring after coloring. The effort proved too much, and she simply stopped. It is dark now, making her look more like the Irish women around her. She wonders sometimes what he would have thought about it.

She stands here for the last time as the sun sets on a cold February afternoon. The wind chaps her lips and freezes the tears on her face, but she stands resolute and watches for the last time as the sun dips beneath the sea. She doesn't expect to feel him this time, and when there is nothing but the howling wind cutting through her wool coat, chilling her, she isn't surprised. There is only peace.

finis

Author's Note: I wrote this epilogue because, for a long time now, I've felt badly about leaving these characters in such a dark place. They needed closure, and I wanted to give them that. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thanks again for your support and, of course, your reviews.


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